A quote, revisited

Casey: Hey, you want to get involved with this?
Dan: I so don’t.
Casey: Didn’t you used to care about these things? And it wasn’t that long ago that you did.
Dan: No.
Casey: I mean, it was like yesterday.
Dan: Right.
Casey: Now, when I say yesterday, I’m not speaking metaphorically. It was yesterday! What happened to your values?
Dan: I find that maintaining them is a lot of work. I take a day off now and then.
Casey: You take a vacation from doing the right thing?
Dan: Yeah. I don’t loot store fronts or anything, but once in a while, when I consider the effort it takes to diligently adhere to a moral compass I take myself out of the line up and I rest for the next game.

I don't write much on this blog anymore. And even when I wrote pretty consistently, I never said much about politics, religion, or, to be truly honest, anything that is really important to me, except for my family and friends. But this week, the intersectionality (a nonexistent word that comes up in my profession) of my undergraduate family violence class, my employment at a university, my position as a mandated reporter, and my love of college football have caused me some unrest.

I have linked this timeline of events to my blog because, for those three people who read this who may or may not be college football fans, I don't have the energy to relay all of the events that have gone down at Penn State this week. Suffice it to say, a football coach (defensive coordinator) for the program was arrested on Saturday with 40 counts of sexual abuse of eight boys he had access to through a charity dedicated to helping "troubled" boys from "dysfunctional families." Forty counts. The man has been retired since 1999, but has continued to enjoy the perks of Penn State football, a storied program with a head coach who, until yesterday, had been there for 46 seasons and brought the school much glory and honor.

Then, yesterday, the head coach got fired. This has brought many mixed reactions from fans, sportswriters, NCAA officials, and those people who comment on internet stories. The reactions do not have to do with whether or not it is wrong to sexually abuse a child: people are pretty unanimous that child sexual abuse is okay. Score one. The unrest has to do with what a head football coach-a person in a position of leadership, and, if I'm not mistaken, a mandatory reporter under the Clery Act-should or should not do if it is reported to him that one of his colleagues has been seen on molesting a child on school property. There is also unrest about the person who witnessed the child being molested-a man who, at the time, was a student assistant, but is now also a coach at Penn State. In the case of the student, he reported the incident to the head coach, who, in turn, reported some version of the incident to the university's athletic director, who elected to handle it internally.

This happened years ago, and the details are just coming out as a result of one of the victims going to the authorities. Like I said, the head coach was fired yesterday, and many people in the town of State College protested this decision. Others, while supporting the decision to fire the head coach, are wondering about the former student assistant, still employed by the Penn State football team, and calling for his termination, as well. Again, the unrest seems to stem from whose responsibility people view it is to handle these things, and whether or not they are handled in the proper way.

The bottom line is this: the man who abused these children-children who were already vulnerable coming from poverty and absent homes-needs to be punished for his crimes with the stiffest penalties the law allows. But, as for those who knew and didn't say anything, or tried to cover up what had happened, it gets a little fuzzier. There's the university piece: what is the university protocol? There's the mandated reporter piece: do I have a responsibility to report something to an official?

Having worked in a university, I understand that there is a chain of command that must be followed. Universities have reputations to protect, and they like to have control over how things are handled. When I see something happen with my colleagues, or my students, I tend to have this thought process: is this something I can talk to the person directly about and leave it at that? If so, I usually do, and it dies there. If not, I ask myself, who is the person I need to inform next? If it is a student, the answer is typically either that person's clinical supervisor or their thesis/dissertation chair. However, if the matter is serious enough, I typically talk to my immediate boss-the program chair. I have a lot of faith in my boss, and expect her to do the right thing. I find that she does. As a student, I depended on the faculty around me to do their jobs, and if I had a concern, I would leave it with them. But I recognize that, as I type this, I have never had a situation come up that involved any of my colleagues or students abusing a child.

However, I am a mandated reporter, which means that, if I see or hear of anyone abusing a child, I HAVE to report that. I could lose my license and my job. I take that pretty seriously. I met with a student for supervision today, and told her twice that she needed to report an instance of child abuse, for the safety of the kids, for her, and for me. As a therapist, it is something I struggle with. After meeting with clients for a few sessions, I begin to have a relationship with them. If I find out in the course of therapy that they have been abusing their children, reporting them becomes tough, even though I know it is the right thing to do, and even though I always tell them at the beginning of therapy that I have to do it.

Then, there's this piece I don't want to talk about that is sort of nagging at me: I love college football. I originally heard this story on a sports talk radio show that I listen to every morning as I drive into work. I have season tickets to BYU football, and I have cable TV expressly so that I can watch college football games on Saturday. College football scandals drive me crazy, particularly when they are related to recruitment, and the teams involved get to go to BCS Bowls. And while I truly believe that, when a scandal goes down in a college sports program, there should be ramifications, I know that it is a little bit harder to swallow when they happen to my team, and my team is poised to compete for a national championship. And, for the record, I do not think that violating university or NCAA policies are in the same universe as pedophilia, but I do think that when we break rules, we need to expect consequences, even if they interfere with our sports teams.

That said, the bottom line for me is that child abuse is wrong. It is wrong when it happens in families; it is wrong when it happens in institutions. There are times, as a therapist, a professor, and a human being, when I weigh the costs of a battle and decide it isn't worth it. However, reporting child abuse should never be thought of as "not worth it" for any reason, be it institutional ramifications, because it should be someone else's responsibility, or merely because I don't want to get involved. If I as a bystander take the position that it is not my responsibility to make sure that something is done, than whose responsibility is it? At some point, that only leaves two people: the victim, or the perpetrator. Obviously, perpetrators are unlikely to report themselves. Putting the responsibility on a child victim to report abuse sends a message that, once again, society has failed to protect him-a lesson he already knows too well.     

Summer Wrap Up

In the course of the summer, there were a few highlights that probably should have merited an entire blog post, but didn't because I never sat down and turned them into one. But here were some of the ways in which I spent my summer vacation:

...my first-ever trip to the Stadium of Fire to see, among other things, Brad Paisley, David Archuleta, and the guy from the BYU Library/Old Spice Commercial...

...visiting the Salt Lake Japanese American Citizens' League's obon festival...

 ...eating sushi and gyoza unlike anything we get in a restaurant...

 ...going back to watch the taiko drummers...

.

...and the dancers...

...visiting Shane's family in California and watching Lisee eat rice and noodles in Little Tokyo...

 ...taking Kevin and Sammie shopping in Park City...

...and watching them ride the merry-go-round...

 ...seeing outdoor movies and plays with the girls...



...growing a garden...

 ....periodically forgetting to pick the vegetables for long periods of time...

...and basking in the beauty of one lone sunflower.

All in all, not a bad summer.

And now for something completely different...

Three days after the Lea Salonga concert, I found myself in the BYU Broadcasting building watching the BYU/Texas football game with Melanee and George.

BYU, as some of you may know, declared their independence last year. However, this season marks the first season that will be affected by that change. Much like Michael Scott declaring bankruptcy, just saying it is not enough. It meant that, while BYU's football team would no longer be bound by the constraints of a conference (specifically the Mountain West Conference) the rest of the sports had to be housed somewhere (specifically the West Coast Conference). It means that BYU is now responsible for scheduling its own season and finding teams willing to play during weeks of the year typically devoted to conference play, as well as some .

What does this have to do with my Saturday night? One of the major factors in BYU's decision to go independent has to do with their TV station. In their deal with the Mountain West Conference, the conference controlled BYU's football TV exposure, despite the fact that BYU has some incredible TV facilities. Now that they are independent, they have more freedom to show football on their own station. That said, the game was broadcast on ESPN. But we got there early to watch the pregame show live in the studio.

After the pregame show, we stayed to watch the game on a giant screen.

Here are some things that I observed about the game with a large group of fans in a small space:

• In the space of a stadium, you can't hear all of the things fans are shouting, like, "He's got all day to throw!" or, "Who were you passing to?" In a small theater, you can hear all of it.
• Regardless of what the small squad of cheerleaders who do not go on the road with the team and instead have to cheer at the pregame show say, I did not feel motivated to join in cheers, do the wave, or any of the other things that I would have done if I had actually been in the stadium.
• The vending machines in the broadcast building, while more moderately priced, had nothing on stadium food.

Also, the Cougars suffered a heartbreaking loss to a still-rebuilding Texas team, which would have been worse if I'd gone to Austin to see it.  Of course, I would have been in Austin, which is always a plus.

On My Own

Have I mentioned how much I love Broadway musicals? Yes, yes I have. Also Here, here, and here. Whew, that's a relief.

I have neglected to mention that this summer, I saw the same production of Aida three times in the same week, as well as a production of Singing in the Rain that was only worth seeing once. And, as much as I enjoy the local theatre, I wish I could take more trips to big cities to see more Broadway-quality productions.

So, I was very excited to hear that Lea Salonga was performing at BYU.

Who is that? you may be asking yourself. She is probably more familiar to you than you might think. She is the singing voice of Princess Jasmine in Aladdin, as well as Mulan. Additionally, she was the original Kim in Miss Saigon, and the first Asian Fantine and Eponine in Les Miserables. In fact, she has appeared on both of the Les Miz specials that have aired on PBS. You could think of her as the Filipina Kristin Chenoweth, if that helps you. She ranks up there with Ming Na and Keiko Agena in terms of Asian/Asian American entertainer heroines of mine.

But I didn't decide until the last minute that I wanted to go, so I went alone. I bought my ticket online 2 hours before the show started and just stayed at work until it was time to go over to the HFAC where the show was.

The show was AWESOME! She sang some of my favorite Broadway songs, from "On the Street Where You Live," from My Fair Lady, to "I Dreamed a Dream," from Les Miz, to "For Good," from Wicked, and even a little Sondheim.

But she didn't stop there. She sang the songs she sang in Disney movies and invited an audience member to sing the part of Aladdin in "A Whole New World." She sang a song in Tagalog, and covered the Beatles and Lady Gaga (in English).

At that performance, BYUtv was filming a segment for a show called "The Song That Changed My Life." For that segment, she sang "On My Own," also from Les Miserables. In high school, this was probably my favorite Broadway song, and her performance was so incredible. Neither of these is the reason I had tears in my eyes. I became very conscious of the fact that they were filming, and my throat got dry, like I needed to cough. While I held it in for the entire song, my eyes started to water.

Some other thoughts I had about the performance:

• I had awesome seats. I think I was 10th row, dead center. The problem (that I often forget) with me being in the center of an audience is that I am shorter than just about everybody, and, invariably, someone really tall will come sit down in front of me just before the performance starts, blocking my view. That was exactly what happened. The seating was tiered, but this guy had to be 6'3" or something, with a head the size of my brother Danny's.

        I have added this picture of a doll to give some perspective. Imagine the cake part is actually               someone's head, and that the doll is the part of Lea that was not blocked by the aforementioned head when I was sitting tall in my seat. There has got to be a better way to arrange seating. If they had a box to check that asked if you were under 5' and would have trouble seeing, I would happily check that box and be moved further away in order to be able to see.

• I have never seen so many Asians in together in Provo before. Where do they go the rest of the time?
• While I think, in this case, she definitely deserved it, people at BYU are not very discriminating in who or what they will give a standing ovation.
• There were a lot of older people in the audience who seemed really confused by "Poker Face." As I was trying to leave for home, I waited while a car full of these same people backed out of their space an inch at a time, and then made a 50-point turn.

My Favorite Cancelled-Too-Soon TV Shows

I will freely admit that I watch a lot of TV. I blame this partly on the fact that I live by myself, and I go a little crazy without some background noise. At the same time, there are really only a few shows that I have gotten really into over the years, and most of them get cancelled before I think they should. Notable exceptions over the years have been ER (which I loved, but stopped watching after Anthony Edwards left), Friends (which peaked for me in Season 4 when Ross said the wrong name at his own wedding), and Gilmore Girls (which I always loved, but definitely cooled off for when Lorelei and Rory both started to make questionable romantic choices).

So, in honor of the finale of Friday Night Lights, here is my review of some of my favorite cancelled shows, all of which can currently be streamed on Netflix if you have not had the pleasure (and, yes, I realize that in using this blog to talk about TV shows, I have crossed a new threshold of blogging geekiness):

(In order of least to most episodes made)

Pushing Daisies

# of Episodes: 22

Synopsis: This show was swallowed up in a perfect storm of big budget, writer's strike, and too original. On the surface, it could be a crime procedural, and yet it featured a main character named Ned, who baked pies and wakened dead people, the girl he loved (who used to be dead) that he couldn't touch, the wry humor of Chi McBride (the detective who exploited Ned's abilities to wake murder victims and find out who killed them), and Kristin Chenoweth with an occasional song-and-dance number. Not to mention the beautiful and surreal set designs and the fairy-tale-like narrator. It never had a chance, but it was great while it lasted.

Draws for me: pies, musical theater

Sports Night

# of episodes: 45

Synopsis: Before the West Wing (sort of), way before The Social Network, but after A Few Good Men, Aaron Sorkin did a low-rated, much beloved show about a nightly sports show. It featured all of the things that Sorkin would become known (and mocked) for, including quick, somewhat repetitive dialogue, the walk-and-talk, and characters who feel the need to bring their resumes into everyday conversation. Doesn't sound appealing, you say? The cast was stellar, (Robert Guillame, Felicity Huffman, Peter Krause, & Josh Charles, to name a few), the characters were engaging, and the sports talk never became a distraction.

Draws for me: sports, talkiness, grown-up Knox Overstreet

Friday Night Lights

# of episodes: 76

Synopsis: This one, for reasons I can't explain, has stayed on the air for five seasons despite the fact that it doesn't really fit into any genre, and looks like it could only be enjoyed by people who are either football fans or who live in Texas (of course, most Texans assume all people who live in Texas are football fans). It is a TV show based on a movie based on a book, which, by definition, should mean it was really bad. However, the result was incredible. It is the story of a coach, his family, a team, and a town, and while the situations they find themselves in may, from time to time, be somewhat contrived (cougar next-door-neighbors, manslaughter, meth dealers with ferrets, etc.), the characters seem like people you know, and their relationships with each other never feel forced. And if you've ever spent any time in West Texas, it's like coming back for a visit (in a good way).

Draws for me: football, relationships, a non-stereotypical, accurate portrayal of West Texas life, Tim Riggins

There are other shows that were cancelled prematurely that I discovered long after they were cancelled (Freaks and Geeks, My So-Called Life, Arrested Development) but I don't feel as attached to them because I never had that angsty relationship with them where I was worried about whether or not we would ever see each other again. Also, liking them now just makes me feel like a poser.

Stanford and Me

Two weeks ago, I went to Stanford University.

There was a conference on sequential methodologies, which, as it turns out, are not exciting. And yet, somehow, they are. But that's beside the point.

The point is that, for three days, I was consistently the dumbest person in every room I frequented, including my hotel room, where I was the only person in the room. I tried not to even talk to anyone, lest anyone blow the whistle on me.

I am not a statistician. I am not a biologist. I am not even a hardcore researcher. I am a therapist who happens to be employed by a larger system that values research and statistical training. And since that system requires stats training of my students, I believe that it is only fair for me to be likewise trained.

But, I will be really honest, I really went to Palo Alto for this:

And this (which came as a recommendation from my brother, who is an expert in Japanese cuisine):

And to snap pictures like this one:

And this one (because I teach an MFT theories class in the winter and make reference to this place roughly 700 times):

And this one (for Kim):

But this is really what made my trip worthwhile:

One was Meyer Lemon. The other was fleur de sel. Both were divine.

Yes, it has finally come to this.

This post is supposed to be about the time I spent in California with Shane's family.

Unfortunately, to get to why I was in California, I have to confess that I did something I am not proud of:

I went to a mid-singles' conference.

It was not the first I have been to, and I have a feeling it will not be the last. The difference between this one and others, though, is that it attracts people from all over the country--as in, people from other states fly in to attend this conference. I am now officially one of those people.

It started with a desire to visit Stephanie, who is now living in San Diego--well, Coronado to be more precise. She suggested that I come the weekend of the Huntington Beach LDS midsingles conference. I have learned from years of experience that Stephanie can make anything fun, even these kinds of activities, so I said yes.

The highlights:

• The Angels/Braves game on Friday night. The Angels won, and I ran into Rochelle, a former roommate who is now finishing up her law degree at Pepperdine. No pictures of that, sorry, Lisa.
• Fish tacos on the beach.
• Some pretty good workshops on Saturday morning. It turns out, both Stephanie and I are bathing in masculine energy. No, that's not a good thing.
• The beach on Saturday afternoon.
• Speed dating. No, seriously.
• Seeing this man behind us in line for dinner. Not being a Laker fan (in fact, truthfully, being the opposite of a Laker fan) I had no idea who he was, but Stephanie recognized him and texted me discretely to alert me to his presence.
• A pretty decent 80's rock cover band that wore wigs.
• I fell on the floor laughing. Now that I think about it, I can't remember the particulars of that one.

The lowlights:

• Overhearing comments like the following: "I need to know you are willing to give. No, wait. That was my marriage." Huh?
• Dinner at Ruby's on the pier. The food itself was good. What was not good was that, in order to accommodate the entire conference, we had to eat in shifts, and, when we were seated, we were put at a table with six people who were already halfway through their meals, had come together, and were not great at small talk. When I asked the man to my left what he did for a living, he said, "Many things." Maybe I'm a snob, but that didn't seem like something a man in his 40's should be saying.
• A two-hour Sacrament meeting on Sunday morning that dissolved into chaos as people prepared to be fed.

I had a great time because, again, I was there with Stephanie, which meant that, at a given time, I could look over at her face and know that she was thinking the same thing I was. Also, we had a lot of downtime to process through some of the awkward encounters of the day.

Sunday after church, Shane came and picked me up so that I could spend the night at his house. Huntington Beach is about an hour from where they live.

By skipping the closing fireside, I got to have dinner with Shane, Maria, Brooklyn, and Elise, who is now doing this:

That's right--she can crawl. And, when she gets going, she's pretty quick. She has to be because she has to keep up with this person:

Not that Brooklyn spends much time crawling. Most of our time was spent singing, dancing, and playing "Rapunzel," which involved her dangling a gold rope from the back of her head while I pretended to climb up.

The next morning we went to Trader Joe's, where I mostly just looked longingly at frozen food I couldn't take home.

Brooklyn, however got a box of ocean animal crackers which she ate in the car.

For lunch, Maria took me for some really good sushi, which is something I don't have very often, having gone from the plains of West Texas to the landlocked state of Utah.

Here is something else I don't get very often:

Look at those cheeks! Man, I miss those girls. I don't get to see them as often as the two other people whose pictures make it onto this blog, but I sure love them.

My life lately

I officially survived Fall and Winter semesters at BYU!

I am teaching one class during the spring, but it is taking significantly less of my time.

So what have I been up to lately?

Playing at the park...

Making cake pops for Easter...

Visiting the Tulip Festival...

Hanging with two of my favorite kids!

Sammie was showing me her dance costume tonight (I posed her like this),

and I guess Kevin wanted to dress up too.

This is a new swimming suit and shirt he just got.

Then she spent a few minutes showing me her dance routine, while he spent some time showing me how he could climb up three steps and jump to the ground.

Never let it be said that these kids don't appreciate an audience.

Kevin and Sammie

Last weekend marked a milestone: both Kevin and Sammie spent the night at my house.

I had promised them when I moved to Utah that someday they could spend the night at my house. I expected that two things had to happen for "someday" to occur:

a) Kevin would have to be potty trained.

b) I would have to recover from the last time Sammie spend the night at my house.

Their parents dropped them off on Friday afternoon. Our first order of business was to ride their trike and scooter around my parking lot. This lasted approximately three minutes.

We took a trip to the grocery store, where we bought their dinner of choice: Macaroni and Cheese shaped like Spongebob Squarepants.

Following dinner, we decided to go to McDonald's for ice cream.

I'm not sure why the creepy Hamburglar windsock was hanging from the ceiling, but I couldn't take my eyes off it.

I made the mistake of ordering them each their own ice cream cone, while ordering a McFlurry for myself. It turned out they were more interested in playing at the play place than eating ice cream, and when they did decided they wanted ice cream, they were more interested in my McFlurry than they were in their own cones.

After ice cream, we returned to my house, where they got ready for bed.

I mentioned before that Kevin had to be potty-trained to be allowed to sleep over, which he is, at least in the daytime.

At nighttime, however, he still wears a diaper. His parents had run out of the diapers he normally wore to bed. But, being the resourceful woman that she is, Melanee improvised and found a few Disney Princess Pull-ups from when she was potty-training Sammie. At first, Kevin was reluctant to wear them. Then, Melanee did this:

Not only did it keep him dry, but the three of us laughed about it for five minutes.

The next day, I returned the kids to their parents' house, where I ended up spending most of the rest of the weekend. The Frosts were also there. Here is a shot of the kids with Dane, helping to mix some cupcake batter:

I apologize that Dane is not looking at the camera. It's pretty hard to get three children that young to all look at the camera at the same time.

And this one:

Kevin suddenly got very excited about building a tower on the fridge with his letter magnets.

See if you can spot the word he unintentionally spelled. You would have had to spend the weekend with him to know why it was extra funny.

The Festival of Colors

Without really saying my job is stressful (because I don't want to be one of those people who blabs indiscreetly about his/her job and coworkers), I think I have conveyed that point. Recently, it has become evident that I need to spend less time working, thinking about work, and/or talking about work. So, when Lisa invited me to take part in the Hare Krishna Temple's Holi Festival of Colors, I said yes. It has become an annual event for her, as well as for many, many other Utah County residents. It was a first for me.

For those of you who don't live in Utah County, I will try to explain this as best I can:

About 15-20 minutes south of Provo, there is a Hare Krishna temple. I have spent some time on Wikipedia, and feel that I can, with a marginal amount of clarity, explain what Hare Krishna is:

• It is a religious organization whose core beliefs are based on traditional Hindu scriptures such as the Bhagavad-gita.
• It is a monotheistic religion that aims to bring people to the Supreme God, who is Krishna.
• Its members can often be seen spreading Krishna-consciousness in public areas.
• The festival of Holi symbolizes both the exorcism of the demoness Holika and the love of Krishna and Radha. It is celebrated by the throwing of colors and the burning of the witch.

From these three bullet points, it shares some commonalities with my religio (except for the Bhagavad-gita). I will freely admit that I did not know even this small amount about Hare Krishna prior to attending the Festival of Colors. I will also freely admit that I am confident I was not alone.

So, this is what the festival meant to me, and, in my estimation, 98% of the other people there:

• You get to stand in a field in front of the Hare Krishna Temple and throw handfuls of colored powder at one another while chanting "Hare Krishna," over and over again. Hare, by the by, refers to the "energy of God."

The festival took place all day yesterday. They were expecting something like 15,000 people at this event. I realize that the official capacity of Darrell K. Royal Texas Memorial Stadium in Austin is over 100,000, but we are talking about a pretty small, fairly rural town in Utah. Consequently, we had to park a couple of miles away, and walk to the temple. We never found all of the people we were supposed to be going with.

Our first task once we got inside the temple grounds was to buy the colored powder. The powder, which seemed to be something along the lines of rose-scented cornstarch, was sold in individual bags, bags of three, or bags of six. Entrance into the grounds is free, so the temple makes money from selling the colors. There was no discount for buying bags of three or six. The powder stands were under a pavillion, which was so crowded I never actually saw a line, or the people selling the powder until we managed to press our way to the front.

Once we had our colors, we made our way out to the lawn in front of the temple where probably a couple thousand people were gathered, already throwing colors at one another, despite the fact that there is a designated throwing time and you are sort of discouraged from just throwing colors haphazardly at people.

Meanwhile, a band was playing. They had sort of a Christian rock feel to them, but, after examining their website, I'm not sure they would claim Christianity or any other denomination beyond a general spirituality. Following their set, it was announced that, prior to the 3 p.m. throwing, they would "burn the witch."

I am not making this up. The burning of the witch seems to be important to the festival of Holi, but I cannot get over the bizarreness of standing on a hill with thousands of white people in the throes of some sort of Indian Woodstock chanting "Burn the witch!" "Burn the witch!" Images of Monty Python and The Crucible filled my head.

On the heels of the witch-burning, they had the countdown, and, for a good ten seconds, the air was filled with colored powder.

And that was pretty much it.

I have included some of the dos and don'ts of this activity, which, I think, gives a pretty good snapshot of what this day was like:

Dos

• Going up to strangers and asking, "May I loving[ly] decorate your face & recolor your hair?"-This one became extremely important to me. I have personal space issues in my regular life, and they extended to this festival, so I did not appreciate random strangers on the street (well before I got to the temple, mind you) throwing colored powder on my face or slapping my back with their powdered hands.
• Letting down body surfers gently on their feet. There was an ambulance at the event, which fired up as we were leaving, presumably because someone had failed to heed this rule.

Don'ts

• Throwing colors close, hard, & directly into eyes and mouth.
• Climbing anything except stairs (means roofs, scaffolding, poles, fences, brass elephants, stage).
• Taking off shoes of body surfers & throwing on pavilion roof. (they'll not be taken down til end of the day).
• Vending illegally on the property (undermines temple's ability to improve property & events).
• Throwing colors on the musicians & their equipment.
• Throwing colors on or around the temple building & verandah (it's a color safe zone for those who'd rather observe).

It always worries me when I read a list of rules like this one because it is absolute proof that someone has done these things, and that it doesn't take much for a group of upstanding college/high school students to disintegrate into a group of crazy anarchists.

Here's a shot of Anne, who never broke a single rule during the event, and also kept her sunglasses on during the whole thing, so as to avoid having someone throw powder in her eyes.

At some point in the day, it occurred to me that I am a professional in the community, and it might not be in my best interest to run into one of my students or clients at this event.

I was banking on the fact that they wouldn't recognize me.

What do you think?

*I apologize that these pictures do not do a very good job of depicting things as they actually happened. I have a new phone which is fancy and expensive, and I did not pull it out of its protective bag until after we were safely away from where the colors were being thrown.

Injustice

I have been paying for cable since I moved to Utah. I have discovered that I don't use it as much as I thought I would, though it did enable me to watch five Harry Potter movies last weekend.

HOWEVER, I keep it for such occasions as college football season and March Madness, when BYU is playing in its most important game since I began cheering for their basketball team. Sadly, I am going to miss it because I have to teach class tomorrow night. While I don't feel good about canceling practicum to watch basketball (my students are either uninterested in basketball or not BYU fans), I would feel okay about pausing to watch some of it on the TV in my office. But the game is being broadcast on TBS, which the university doesn't get.

I think that's called irony, but so many people have misused that term that I'm not sure anymore.

The Kid is Legal Again

After faxing my clearance from the Court of South Salt Lake to the DMV (twice) and paying a $30 reinstatement fee, I am pleased to announce that I am, once again, a driver in good standing with the State of Utah.

Whew!

My Day in Court

A few months ago, I posted this. I would like to reiterate my sympathy for judges because I have now been to court. I had to go. There was a warrant out for my arrest.

I like to think of myself as a law-abiding citizen, though, as a recent experience with traffic school showed me, I break about 100 traffic rules a day, and I ought to be grateful for the comparatively few times in my life that I have been caught. But I do think, in general, I am a pretty responsible citizen.

Several months ago, I was in a car accident, which totaled my beloved Corolla. The accident was not my fault, but some semi-shady things seemed to be going on with the person who hit me and her insurance, and that has been a debacle.

The night of the accident, I was issued a citation for what the officer called "insufficient insurance." This meant that, although I had handed him an insurance card, it was expired. Despite my efforts to convince him that the current card was in my car, he issued me a citation, telling me that if I "went to court" I could "get it taken care of."

So, accordingly, I drove to the South Salt Lake between 5 and 14 days after the citation was issued, only to discover that the citation had not yet been posted. The clerk assured me that they would send me a notice to appear in court and, at that time, I could fax in my proof of insurance and all would be forgiven.

I never received that notice.

And, to be quite honest, I sort of forgot about it. My job is hectic, and I was battling with my insurance company and the company of the person who hit me to get myself another car. Plus, I thought the whole thing was bogus anyway, since I had been insured at the time of the accident, and I KNEW they could find that out.

Then, last week, I tried to switch insurance companies. In the process of accessing my driving record, my new insurance agent told me my license had been suspended.

"WHAT?!"

He assured me that it was probably an internal error, and headed off to the DMV for me to find out.

He came back and told me that it was not a mistake, and that I had failed to show up for the court date I didn't know I had.

I called the court, where a nice clerk explained that the last address linked to my drivers' license was my parents' house in West Jordan, which is currently being rented. At the time, I was not living in the house, but put it as my permanent address because I assumed I would always be able to get mail from there. Tee hee.

The clerk immediately set a new court date for me, and I asked her if I could still just fax my proof of insurance and be done with it. But because there was a WARRANT out for my arrest, that would not be possible.

Two days later, I drove illegally to Salt Lake and showed up in court and awaited my turn in front of the judge. Other people around me were handling traffic tickets, suspended driver's licenses, etc. There was one particularly colorful man who was both appearing in an effort to get his license reinstated and also handing out business cards for his "law business." I'm not really sure what it was, as I think I can say with pretty good confidence that this guy had not attended law school. He sauntered up to the front of the room and said, to the very nice female judge, "You're looking very lovely today, Your Honor." How she kept from rolling her eyes is beyond me. He then proceeded to tell her that he thought she should just "throw his case out," and everyone in the room heaved a sigh, including the people who only spoke Spanish.

Though I was instructed to turn my cell phone off before the judge came in, I had to sneakily turn it back on to send an e-mail to my boss to let her know I would not be able to make our 10 a.m. meeting. Fortunately, no one caught me. And I was lucky enough to be done in time to make my 11 a.m. meeting back in Provo.

AND I was lucky that I only had to pay $125 for the processing fee on the warrant that was issued for missing the court date I didn't know I had for the ticket that I should not have received in the first place. My lawyer/roommate/cousin later told me I shouldn't have had to pay anything because I was never served, but I wouldn't have wanted to argue with that judge. For me, an appearance in court was (knock on wood) a once-in-a-lifetime thing. For her, it happens every day.

Get in the game

Natalie: Two guys have ascended five miles into the sky! They walked up a wall of ice, and are preparing to knock on the door of heaven itself! There's really no end to what we can do! You know what the trick is?

Dan: What?

Natalie: Get in the game.

So, I have decided that the recent rash of posts quoting TV shows are my best attempt at telling the stories of my life through parables. To say too much could get me into trouble at work, but I will say this:

I am continually reminded that there is much about this world that I cannot change. However, there are many things in my life that I can do something about. The trick is to get in the game.

Karaoke Solves Everything

This is a picture I took in Shibuya, Japan, of the karaoke place that Shane, Maria, and I sang at. You can see his khaki shorts and that little pink bundle in his arms that is Brooklyn on the left.

We had a ward Valentine's Day FHE tonight, and I brought my karaoke machine. Tonight, I finally started to get the appeal. If you think about the life the average Japanese businessman leads, it is pretty confining. Tiny office, tiny house, cramped Metro cars. It's got to grate on you after awhile. It's got to be nice on those days when, with the aid of alcohol, they can kick back and sing their hearts out to a truly terrifying rendition of "Don't Stop Believin'" in the company of likewise inebriated friends. There's something about karaoke that just makes you feel like you are living your childhood dreams of being a rock star, rather than sitting at a cramped desk dealing daily with people you wish you didn't have to see.

And on Valentine's Day, it means a lot of single women singing songs like, "Since U Been Gone," and "I Will Survive." Because when you can sing about it, you WILL survive.

The men seemed much less affected, singing songs like "If I Had a Million Dollars." I think this provides a nice little snapshot into why some of us are still single.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.